


a heavenly view

by 3amscribbles



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-16
Updated: 2016-11-16
Packaged: 2018-08-31 10:38:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8575117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3amscribbles/pseuds/3amscribbles
Summary: Robert moves out there, clinking bottles and teeth together as he sinks down beside his fiancé. He wants to clink their rings together, too, while entwining their fingers, but knows that it would be too much. Too explosive.





	

It’s going to take a lifetime for Robert to learn the cues that are embedded in Aaron’s behaviour; in the twitches of his expression and the hunches of his shoulders. Will require effort even when they’re old and grey, for Robert to interpret the pitches of Aaron’s voice and understand what a grumble truly means.

It will take time – time that they _have_ , because they’ve survived themselves and gunshots and sinking cars, and there is subtle jewellery tying their fingers and cores together in a from-the-rooftops kind of loudness that makes the thudding of Robert’s heart feel private in comparison. Something entirely his and Aaron’s.

He wants to be here. Wants to watch, and learn, and kiss apologies for his wrong-turns along every inch of Aaron’s skin for decades to come, and he’s _allowed to_. Has Aaron’s blessing to love and fuck up and love even more while Aaron fits their cracks together with the faith he’s got that Robert doesn’t have in himself.

It’s only been two years at this point. It’s nowhere near enough time for Robert to translate Aaron’s grumbling as anything but a notion of ‘ _going outside for a bit’_ , because that’s exactly what Aaron is saying before he’s lifting his hoodie from their bed and heading downstairs. Robert looks at the empty spot on the mattress - the one that looks betrayed by Aaron’s sudden change of plans - before he gazes after the retreating love of his life down the steps.

The bed provides no answers. Neither do his two years of observations. It’s his phone that cracks the code; screams at him with the reminder he set for himself regarding the supermoon. The chance to be even more amazed than usual by the night sky that hovers over the dales.

He finds Aaron outside the pub, huddled at one of the tables without a coat or beanie to keep him warm. His silhouette will be familiar anywhere, in any setting, under any corner of the sky, just like it probably always will cause a spark of fondness in Robert’s chest when it comes into his view. That spine is fascinating to look at; strong from everything it’s supported, yet fragile with the way it seems to shiver any time Robert stokes his palm along it, over Aaron’s back to soothe any possible ache from that awful posture of his.

He spends another minute watching, admiring the hint of silver in Aaron’s exhales and wondering what he missed out on during Aaron’s teenage years. The smoking, the attitude, all the pieces that are still there, though faded with time and overruled by developing traits.

“You could have invited me,” he says to Aaron, to the night air with its watchful stars. It’s a bit of an accusation, aimed at Aaron’s inability to communicate, but also at his own, passive-aggressive brand of self-defence. He’s still learning how to embrace his faults.

Aaron hunches his shoulders in a manner Robert actually _has_ categorized – a nonchalant movement to cover up the care that lies behind it, the wish that Robert would understand, follow, be here, all while he mutters, “Well, maybe I don’t want you here.”

Robert moves out there, clinking bottles and teeth together as he sinks down beside his fiancé. He wants to clink their rings together, too, while entwining their fingers, but knows that it would be too much. Too explosive. He tells himself that he likes the idea of Aaron’s hands being warm inside the pockets of that hoodie, anyway, and knocks the caps of their beers off against the edge of the table before he hands one over.

“Cheers,” Aaron offers. An okay. A line drawn over the miscommunication, and gratitude in his tone indicating that he’s pleased that they’re here now. That it worked out, in the end, despite the fact that they are hopeless with each other. Hopeless in so many ways in relation to one another.

Robert leans back with his elbows on the table, and breathes it all in. The air is chilly. Sharp in his nose, but pleasant in his lungs. His liver thinks that the beer tastes like Aaron. It’s done that for a while now – played a game of association so strong that every lager is a phantom kiss and a building desire for the real thing again. He gets drunk in five different ways, these days.

The moon has always fascinated him, of course. Space was his thing when he was twelve, then again when he was twenty-one. Having that beaming circle to look up at in its enlarged form, now, is a thrill for all the versions that still reside within him, but it’s his current self that thrives the most. The guy that gets to see that moonlight bounce off of his fiancé’s skin and lose his breath over it over and over again.

He traces his own ring with the pad of his thumb. Takes a moment to think of what it means before he decides that he’s allowed to love Aaron unconditionally, and presses against boundaries with a brush of that same thumb over the skin behind Aaron’s ear. The boundary doesn’t break, because it’s not there, and he’s left with an Aaron that is leaning into his touch, slightly, seeking the warmth and reassurance out here in their own quiet.

When Aaron finally turns to face Robert he’s got the moon mirrored in his eyes. His face is pale in the light, and the lines of his expression are art displayed on the most exquisite of canvas. Robert loves him. Kisses him. Forgets about the open sky above them, because there’s so much more to get lost in within Aaron. Cracks and crevices to fill up with adoration for however long Aaron lets him, with touches to savour and noises to draw out that not even the moon can compete with.

They pull back at some point. Move apart after a fraction of the time Robert hopes they’ll spend together, and there’s a hint of a smile on Aaron’s lips. A shy, bashful tilt of them that is echoed in his eyes, in the circles of light that are mirrored there. And the moon, admittedly, looks pretty fucking terrific when Aaron is smiling through it.

 


End file.
